


The Good Boys

by markipwiwer



Series: Tumblr Requests [92]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Mostly Fluff, Werewolf! Wilford, body transformation, mild body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 05:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19100626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markipwiwer/pseuds/markipwiwer
Summary: “Give me some good werewolf Wilford (or Jims) please”- AnonymousThis is a spiritual sequel to Werewilf.





	The Good Boys

Wilford didn’t keep track of time very well. Considering how fluently he moved through it, it wasn’t that surprising. But it occasionally got him into trouble.

He didn’t have his usual symptoms this time. A little ache-y in the bones, a little constructed in the skin but nothing obvious. Even his cravings weren’t that bad this time around. Usually he’d be drooling for something raw and only barely dead to sink his teeth - fangs? - into, at least by the time he looked any different. But this time...

He’d been working hard. He was enthusiastic about the current project, and with the Jims able to capture his magic so well on camera, they scarcely ever needed to do second takes. But Bim noticed something on the playback monitor and called cut.

It was unlike Bim to take any sort of directing roll so Wilford got in a bit of a huff, but the Jims cut anyway.

“Trimmer? What on earth - we were doing fine!”

“Sir, I hate to be the one to tell you this but I NEED to get you into hair and makeup. You look... just terrible. When was the last time you shaved?”

Wilford was dumbfounded. His appearance hadn’t changed without him willing it to do so with his powers for almost a century, why...?

He’d already summoned a mirror for himself by the time Bim had one to hand him, and his blood ran cold at his reflection. He was NOT about to be exposed, not when they were in the middle of filming, for goodness sake.

“Bim, I, uh... why don’t you wrap up for the day and send everyone home early?”

Okay, Wilford was calling Bim by his first name. Something was up. But going home early did sound nice...

“I trust you.”

Wilford gave a juicy wink, and a pat on Bims shoulder, and then he was power-walking to his dressing room.

Bim was sold. That was more validation in one sentence than he’d gotten all year!

He clapped his hands together and spoke up, rounding everyone together. In the confusion, the Jims had watched Wilford make a dash to his dressing room, and they knew... their Jim-ly intuition told them there was a story a-brewing. They needed to be there.

Wilford hadn’t even locked the door in his panic. It was happening, he hadn’t made any preparations, and he was quickly losing his regular powers in exchange for... this shape. He managed to tear his phone out of his pocket to call Dark for help, but his claws shredded through the fabric and his hands - his paws - were too damn big. 

Within moments, his clothes were restricting him painfully before shredding and falling in heaps on the ground below him. His boots had been burst through, his tail was stretching and burning, and it was all he could do to just not make too much noise, at least not while he had the mental capacity to think about being found out.

The Jims were at the door, listening carefully, and at first it sounded like another one of Wilfords meltdowns, but with significantly less shooty. There was always shooty and the lack of it peaked the twins suspicion.

CJ put his camera up to the lock hole of the door but caught very little, and RJ knew he could hear more than his mic would ever be able to pick up.

And then... there was whimpering.

“Does Pink Jim have a sad animal trapped in his room?”

“With him? How could an animal be sad with Pink Jim around?”

“Perhaps it has been frightened by his stomping! Imagine, he stomps with his boots and the ruckus leaves the poor creature paralysed with fear!”

“This sounds like a mighty injustice, Jim. We must go in.”

There was a nod in unison.

RJ pushed the door open with CJ close behind and... there it was. There was the creature, certainly not helpless, but looking sad regardless.

The Jims, fools that they were, knew no fear in the face of a creature absolutely capable of tearing their heads off in its muzzle, and approached the pink beast.

“This is a big dog, Jim.”

“I think big dogs are called wolves, Jim.”

“This feels bigger than what I imagine a wolf looking like in my brain. Besides, wolves howl!”

This statement made CJ curious. With reckless abandon, he let out a loud howl, his best imitation of what he assumed wolves sounded like from other wolf impersonations he’d heard in his life.

The beast tilted its head slightly, before licking its chops, and takin a few steps forward towards the twins. They did not back down.

It let out a howl. It was great, far less upset, almost a playful tone to it.

Then, not to be outdone by his brother, RJ also howled. The pink creature howled right back, it’s tail beginning to wag.

The twins beamed at each other, happy that their experiment had worked. The beast was now glad! And it showed, bounding forward and licking them, ruining their clothes and equipment but at this point, did they really mind? It was a big dog! Well, wolf, but just as playful as a puppy!

Without thinking, CJ dropped his mic and reached out as far as he could to put his hand in the mass of fur. And he got belly.

The beast almost immediately rolled over, knocking make up from shelves, rattling things, but that was neither here nor there. With a good reaction like that, both twins went in, with both hands, and gave the best belly rubs they could.

The creatures tongue lolled out, tail wagging enough to make loud thwapping noises against the wall. The twins giggled and laughed and played, and eventually, when their arms were getting tired, they curled up on the ground next to the beast to have a nap.

A few hours later, Wilfords face was recognisable. His moustache blended into his muzzle at a weird angle, but it was him, no doubt. And... oh. He was naked. Darn.

Wilford blinked and attempted to rub his eyes with his still large and furry hands, and he noticed the Jims, fully clothed next to him. Well, at least he hadn’t done anything uncouth.

“Mm. Morning, boys. Sorry about all that.”

His voice was still a little growl-y, but his usual slur was still there. The Jims opened their eyes practically in unison, which was a little creepy, but they both seemed rather excited.

“Pink Jim! YOU are the dog?!”

“Oh, what a fantastic story this will be!”

The Jims attempted to scramble up from the ground to grab their equipment and start filming, but Wilford put his huge hands on both of their shoulders and pulled them back down.

“Now, boys. I know how much you love a good story, but this one has to stay between us, alright?”

The Jims looked at each other, as if speaking telepathically. It wouldn’t have surprised Wilford if they could, at this point.

“Can we come back to play, at least?”

Wilford paused, thinking it over.

“Well... those belly rubs were pretty superb.”


End file.
